Aberration by Kyle West

Author:Kyle West [West, Kyle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-13T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 41

The dueling ring would have been recognizable at any contest in the Sanctum courtyard. The only differences lay in the rules of the fight itself.

It would be to the death. And each participant was required to take three shots of heavily fermented mare’s milk.

Nalam had already gotten started on his drinking, but he took his shots nonetheless in quick succession. It was judged that by the time I took my three, we would be equally drunk, which to the Plains People, was the only way to fight a proper death duel.

Shara fought against the idea, but I had already agreed, and like Nalam said, they weren’t going to let me leave alive until some sort of consensus was reached.

Getting the shots down was the difficult part. The milk tasted sweet, but rotten, at the same time. I reached for Silence just to not taste it, and when I let go, the aftertaste was almost bad enough to make me heave. I didn’t let them see that weakness, though. Most were looking at me as if I were already dead, as if they were looking at a ghost about to join their flame.

Looking around at the jabbering people, it was clear the atmosphere had changed, as if it were a fair day or festival. A circle had already formed, the only boundary being the people. It was probably a hundred feet in diameter. I stood on one side, sword out, while Nalam stood at the other.

On the surface it was a mismatch. He clearly had the physical advantage, but I had the Xenofold. I had killed men larger than him before, but even knowing this, I had never been properly drunk before. The Seekers didn’t allow for drinking, such was their asceticism.

And the alcohol was already having its effect. My head swam in a way that even Silence couldn’t fully dissolve. There was no knowing how it would affect my ability to fight.

Suddenly, the low note of an animal horn blew, while heavy drums began beating. The people on the outside of the circle began to dance, their bodies twisting in the torchlight. Their feet all marched in time to the beat.

The duel had begun.

Nalam strode forward confidently as I assumed the starting stance of Treeform, holding my blade at a forty-five-degree angle away from my body. Nalam gave a guttural yell and swung with all his strength. I stepped aside, dodging the blow easily. He was just as drunk as me, if not more so, but his drunkenness lent him a fury I had never fought against before. His face was contorted with rage and violence as he swung his scimitar in front of him like a whirlwind. I parried where I could, knowing exactly where his blade would strike, and redirecting the energy when dodging wasn’t possible. After a minute of sparring, the horn blew again, the people outside shouted, and as one, they stepped forward, constricting the circle.

I saw now that they held weapons in their hands. Knives, swords, spears.

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